


Harm

by StAnni



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Infidelity, Past Relationship(s), Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StAnni/pseuds/StAnni
Summary: It’s not true.  And he knows it to the core of him.  He tried to make himself believe it once. He spent ten years convincing himself on the other side of the world that he never needed to see her again.  And at the same time, without realizing it, he had convinced her too.  There is such a thing as irreparable.
Relationships: Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Harm

He fists the soft hair at the back of her neck and tips her chin upwards as he presses down. The sheet pulls as his knees spread her thighs and she breathes his name like a prayer.  
Since it ended between them, the few times that they have done this, each time has been tinged with something – desperation, anger, vindication, alcohol even betrayal. 

Tonight is different because there was no reason to it – nothing he can point to or blame. He missed her. He went to the bar where she works. She agreed to come home with him. But it feels like a corner has been turned, for him at least, that he is doing is chasing ghosts. The cool of her calve against his lower back and the smooth press of her skin against his own with every thrust is almost enough to cause his throat to constrict. 

After - there is a second of silent absolution – a glimmer of nothing and nowhere that fades as soon as it surfaces. And then she presses up and away, drawing her dress from the floor and slipping it over her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything as she runs her fingers through her hair – tangling out the dark gold strand and he doesn’t say anything as he watches her. 

It is impossible to think that a year ago he was so certain of them - that he had bought a ring. An impossible thing.

She asks something and he doesn’t hear. He glances at her “Sorry?” Her head is down one arm stretched to her feet – fastening her shoe. “I said how was your birthday?” The fingers of her left hand stretch pale on her knee and the dress bunched on the bed, exposes a sheen of thigh. For a moment he is absolutely caught in the sight of her. “Great.” He lies, but not putting too much effort into it.

His birthday wasn’t terrible. It was fine. There were friends he has made from Wayne Enterprises. Jim was there. Rachel came. Alfred even Face-timed from London. It was fine.

She is quiet in a way that is heavy, loaded almost. And, certainly, it is slightly uncomfortable, but it’s not anything new. Even when they were together he never invited her out with the people from daylight hours, with Jim. And of course he’s not going to do anything as ridiculous as inviting Selina when Rachel might show up. 

She leans back a bit and looks over at him - eyes clear and her gaze is sharp and completely inscrutable . 

She smiles and his world could begin and end in that moment. The love of his life sits on the other side of a bed, still smelling of him, and she might as well be on the other side of the planet for how badly they both fucked everything up.  
“I’m glad you had fun.”  
She means it. She doesn’t like that she means it but she means it – he can see that. His heart feels suddenly tired, ready to tear apart.  
But he smiles back and turns around as he gets up, pulling his pants up from the floor. 

It is the end of the dance, he knows that. He reaches for his watch and can feel her eyes on the back of his neck. He wonders if it will be days again, possibly weeks, before he sees her.

“I was thinking of you.” She says, in that way that is enough to crumble foundations. Raw and open, a hand catching a door swinging shut. She’s always been so much braver than he could ever be. “On your birthday.” She adds, as if it is meant to assuage him.  
“Yeah?” He asks, because he can’t get anything else out, not even with his eyes averted, his heart shielded.  
“Yeah.” She finishes, finally looking away again, at the wall now, and then up at the ceiling – the green of her eyes almost translucent in the light from the window.

And then when he looks at her, he can’t look away. Right into the flame.

“I keep thinking.” She continues, and he knows full well that she is very much aware of the fact that he is caught.  
“About?” He asks, standing very still – not missing the slow rise and fall of her chest, the sweat on her thigh forming a glinting line down towards her hip. 

“About forgiveness.” The words are soft.

It’s his turn. That is clear. “And?”

Who forgives who? Who presents the gashes left of ugly memories – inconceivable transgressions and goes “This is on me. Please. Forgive me.”  
An impossible thing.

She doesn’t say anything. Not for a while. And then she gets up and her dress falls around her knees in a silent waterfall of grey fabric. “I don’t know.” She finally says, not looking at him, bending down to grab her bag. “Do you?”

It wouldn’t work anyway. He knows. Not with Jim as a self-appointed mentor in the place of Alfred. Not with Rachel. Maybe Selina was right all those times she accused him of edging her out of his life, maybe it was conscious. Maybe the ring was exactly what she called it out to be, a lie.

He feels suddenly submerged. Dark water. He could have just gotten drunk again. He could have just passed out in his study. He could have spared himself the come down.

“I don’t know either.” He says, because it’s as close to the truth that he is willing to venture. 

She sighs. And she’s the same Selina – the only constant, the stubborn fixture – always reminding him of painful tethers he can never break. “It feels like you’re always trying to leave, trying to change everything.” She had said to him long ago. “You don’t know how it feels to be on this side.” 

She’s angry and it is easy to tell with her. Her hands are fast, snatching her jacket from the dresser, flipping her hair out from the collar as she quickly pulls it on. Instinctively he becomes defensive and vindication rises bitterly in his chest.

They really are still just children.

“You should get a hobby, Bruce.” Her voice is low but the words cut – as they are meant to.  
Despite himself he smirks - fast and unpleasant. He regrets it immediately and her eyes snap to his.  
“Or maybe just decide what you want in life.” She adds it quickly. It’s juvenile, for sure, but he is reeled into the exchange like a bad habit. “In life?” He retorts, and she bites back “This isn’t good.”  
It’s too easy, painfully easy, to know where to hit “And you’d be the authority on what is good?”

It lands but she takes it in stride. It’s a blow he has dealt many times before. “At least I don’t pretend to be.”

Pausing to take a breath would be simple. Stopping would be simple. He’s had arguments with Rachel before that hasn’t spiraled out of control. He knows that he is capable of interacting without disintegrating. But when it comes to Selina, just the slight trip up and for some reason he’s a baser version of himself – no brakes and no boundaries, a blur of emotion.  
“I don’t see you moving on. At least…”

She takes a step towards him, unphased and whip fast. “I’m sure your girlfriend would ecstatic at the progress you’re making.”

It’s his fault, he knows, he opened this door but he bats away the mention. He really needs a drink. “This isn’t about her. This is about you, Selina. You’re not innocent in all of this.”

Blame is an infinite well of justification– always has been. It feels filthy going back to it, but it gets the desired effect when she turns her head away, her shoulders lilting just slightly.  
“So why did you come to bar?” She asks, not looking at him, and she tries to clear the hurt in her voice but he hears it and as much as it stings, he feels the sick familiar satisfaction. He instantly hates himself so completely that his vision clouds and he sits back down on the bed.

She doesn’t’ wait for an answer. “Because you don’t want me.” Her voice is even now, acceptance flattening out the pain. 

It’s not true. And he knows it to the core of him. He tried to make himself believe it once,. He spent ten years convincing himself on the other side of the world that he never needed to see her again. And at the same time, without realizing it, he had convinced her too. There is such a thing as irreparable. 

When he looks at her now he sees it – an impossible chasm to cross. An impossible love. They’ll only ever be on opposite sides.

“I should go.” She says, finally – a gold fall of curls shadowing her face as she pulls her jacket tight. 

Before she leaves her nails click on the door frame and she looks like she is about to say something, but then she says something else “Take care of yourself, Bruce.”


End file.
